Baking bored biscuits
by ginaromano2012
Summary: Boredom and cookie prompts... Gotta love it. So, I've been working on this for three days, simply because I'm too lazy to finish it in one. A jesslock fluffy friendship lovey thing. Enjoy! Feedback is always welcome!


"Please, Jessica, come quickly. He's gone mad, well, madder than usual. Hurry!" I flipped my mobile shut and sighed, grabbing my peacoat off the hook by the door. I slammed my flat door behind myself and ran down the steps, heading outside. Sherlock. Ugh, why must he be so difficult? John had just phoned me on my mobile, it was Saturday. My day off. As much as I loved my boys, this was getting old. Sherlock was "bored" again. Apparently going on a rampage and John couldn't keep him under control any longer.

I had only known them for around seven months and we had become quite close. This is the eleventh time I have been summoned for his entertainment amd it was getting harder to distract him each time. I huffed and hailed a taxi, grumpily getting in. I had a bad week and I was GOING to take advantage of today by relaxing, doing the grocery, then bathing and changing into jimjams. Maybe watch a sappy film and eat chocolate with Mary. But of course not, when a Holmes boy called you couldn't just ignore it. The consequences could be disastrous. If not for you, for a poor, innocent wall- hey, I've seen it happen!

I handed the cabbi £10.95 and headed for baker street's front door. I didn't even bother knocking as I pushed the door open and strode in. Mrs. Hudson met me in the hall, looking frazzled. "He's went around the bend, love. John is at his ropes end, doesn't know what to do!" The sweet old lady sounded incredibly flustered as she wrung her hands. She squeaked and jumped as something crashed from the flat above us. I barely glanced at her as she ran off into her kitchen, mumbling about how badly behaved her boys were. I chuckled then scowled as I heard another crash, shortly followed by a stream of colorful swear words.

I hopped up the steps and opened 221B's door, taking in the sight before me. I groaned. Books were everywhere, bullet holes spattered the already marred wall, broken vases, mugs and unidentified glass was strewn about. There was a greenish substance splattered all over the window facing the street. I groaned and stepped inside, shutting the door quickly behind myself, locking it. Poor Mrs. Hudson's heart couldn't take this mess. I suddenly realized that there was a deadly calm that had settled around the place within the time I had climbed the staircase. I frowned and walked into the kitchen, noticing the microwave was on and that a oddly colored smoke was spiraling from the door. I hurried over and unplugged it, illicating a few sparks.

I opened the door up to see a jar of jam and a few fingers shoved inside the food. I gagged and quickly shut it once more, trapping the awful, putrid smell within it. I walked back into the living room and saw the The Skull was sitting on the mantle with Sherlock's scarf wrapped around it and a piece of paper, rolled up to look like a ciggerette, stuck in between it's jaws. I just about laughed, untill a pair of lovely Italian leather shoes, sticking out from behind the couch, caught my eyes. I hid my smile and replaced it with a scowl as I walked over to the couch and sat down, leaning over the back of it and looking at the man below. Sherlock lay on his back, hair messy and clothing wrinkled, with his hands on his chest. He looked up at me before saying the single most irritating word in the English dictionary. "Bored!" I almost killed him.

I took a deep, calming breath and gave Sherlock a tight lipped smile. "Where is John?" I asked, curtly. He gave me his best wounded-puppy look, his eyes shining. "He is in his bedroom. He left me after I stuck fingers in his jam. He just refuses to give me a ciggerette AND he confiscated my nicotine patches!" Sherlock exclaimed, almost as if he was tattling. I rolled my eyes and hauled myself off the couch. "Don't go anywhere and don't throw anything else!" I shouted over my shoulder as I climbed the steps to John's room. I kicked the door open (it was ajar, I promise I didn't break Mrs. Hudson's door...) and walked in, arms crossed. "So, you call me, then run and leave him alone? You know what he's like when he is withdrawing! What were you thinking?" I asked, a harsh tone creeping into my voice. John was sitting at his desk, typing away on his laptop, most likely moaning about his insane flatmate on his blog.

He barely glanced up at me as I ranted. Once I was finished he slowly turned around and shut his screen. "He started throwing things when I wouldn't give him his smokes. Then, he went to go for his 'secret' stash of nicotine, which Mrs. Hudson and I had confiscated at an earlier time. He was angry at me, so he proceeded to microwave MY jam, with the fingers Molly had loaned him, just to get back at me." John scowled and glared at the floor. I rolled my eyes, "Well, whenever you are done behaving like a child, you have to come with me. I am not dealing with the youngest Holmes on my own. Not when he is craving. I would rather take on Mycroft." I said, smiling a little bit. John sighed and abruptly stood up and headed downstairs with me.

When we reached the landing we saw that our dearest friend was in the corner. Rocking. John and I glanced at each other and sighed, this was going to be a long night. John cleared his throat, causing Sherlock to scrambled up onto is feet. "Please, John? I promise I will go to tescos for new jam, just please give them to me. I ask you, as a friend, please." Sherlock tried giving John his best defeated and sad look, but John just rolled his eyes. "Nope, we are going to figure something else out for you to do. I called Greg, but they don't have any cases that need solving right as of now. So, I checked the website, none of them would interest you or keep you busy for even an hour. Jess, has an idea, though, don't you?" John rounded on me, giving me a pleading look if I ever did see one. I sighed. Time to get thinking.

"Well, we could always... Watch Telly." I improvised, trying to buy time. The look on Sherlock and Johns' faces told me that that was a bad idea. "Umn, Sherlock... You like experiments. Have you ever baked before?" I asked, hoping this would spike his interest, assuming it wouldn't, though. John looked as if he was going to deck me, if I wasn't lucky enough to be female. "What kind of simpleton BAKES when he is bored? That is what I have Mrs. Hudson for!" Sherlock exclaims proudly, waving his hand in my direction. I bite back my retort. I know he doesn't mean to offend me, he just does... "Have you ever baked before?" I reiterate, trying to be patient. When Sherlock is bored he turns into a child, I know that. John knows this better than I do, but I seem to be able to entertain him for a certain amount of time, which gives John a break. Sherlock let out a puff of air, "No, I have never baked. Nor have I ever felt the urge to do so."

"Will it hurt you to give it a try? One batch of biscuits. You, me and John. If you don't like it, you never have to do it again. Deal?" I ask, sticking my hand out. Sherlock huffed and placed his long fingers in my palm. I pulled the poor man into the kitchen and started rummaging through their things. "Flour, sugar, chips, egg, oil, butter, molasses, and milk." I looked at John expectantly. He seemed the more domestic of the two, so he most likely did the shopping. "Uh, I have butter, eggs and sugar..." John said, sheepishly pulling the ingredients out of the fridge and placing them on the island before me. I blinked rapidly at the few items from the list that they owned. "MRS. HUDSOOOOOONNNN!"

I laughed as Sherlock pulled out yet another batch of horribly burnt, yet watery, cookies. His beautiful curls were sticking up in every which direction, he had flour and other unknown substances all over his suit and his face showed obvious displeasure. I was dying! I laughed again, this time grabbing the counter for support. Mrs. Hudson had kindly loaned us all of her baking ingredients earlier and had made Sherlock promise not to destroy anything else, before hurrying away. She may love her boys, but not enough to teach one of them to bake. I laughed again as Sherlock started furiously cracking eggs into a bowl of sugar. He was muttering something incoherent and tossing the egg shells onto the ground, which caused me to squirm a little. For a man with such remarkable personal hygiene, he wasn't very tidy...

"So, still simple and boring?" I asked, grinning ear to ear. This was his seventh batch of cookies and he showed no signs of giving up anytime soon. John had left around attempt number four. He had to go to work in the morning and used that as an excuse. I didn't mind so much, though, this was actually more fun than chocolate. "There must be a science to it! These are just my experiments!" Sherlock exclaimed, motioning towards me with the mixing spoon, flicking me with dough in the process. I stood there, my white shirt now tainted with sticky goo. I looked down at it and back at Sherlock who was also staring at the stain. I slowly reached behind me and grabbed a handful of flour. "No, Jess... It was an acci-" I cut him off, throwing the handful of flour in his face. He stood stock still, sputtering and blinking rapidly as flour floated around him.

I giggled, he looked ridiculous! His usual pale complexion, even whiter and his hair looked like someone had applied talc powder to it. I giggled again, but stopped when he set the bowl down and wiped his jaw off, glowering at me. "Heheh, you know you deserved it!" I said, boldly thrusting my chin out and putting my hands on my tiny hips. Sherlock smiled at me, causing a shiver to crawl up my spine, it was a smile of pure malicious intent. He slowly, ever so slowly, started creeping towards me, which, in turn, caused me to back up. I stopped when I bumped into the counter. "Sherlock..." I trailed off, noticing his hand grabbing the jar of molasses. My eyes widened and I tried to object, only to earn myself a head full of muck. Sherlock stood there, grinning, his hand still dripping. Had this normally stoic man just grabbed a handful of baking molasses and slapped it onto my head?

I stood there, my mouth hanging open. I looked into his eyes only to see a genuinely happy twinkle shining in the icy blue depths. I smiled, happy to see a side of him that I had never been granted before, even if it meant I had goo in my hair. I grabbed an egg off the counter and smashed it into his chest, delicately wiping my fingers off on the lapels of his once white shirt. He grinned and made a move for me, which I slipped out of and slid away, running to the island. "Haha!" I stated, triumph in my voice. Sherlock frowned for a second before launching himself over the island and sliding into me, trapping me inbetween his body and the counter behind me. I looked up at him, suddenly lacking a healthy supply of oxygen and my heart was beating so hard it felt as if someone had started a jackhammer inside my head and chest. What was this? I've never felt this with him before. Surely...? It was just Sherlock, I thought to myself.

Sherlock quickly wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me against him, which startled me and caused a little yelp to escape my lips. He quickly twisted us around and stuck his finger in a jar of jam that was behind me. I widened my eyes and tried to portray how much i would hurt him if he got THAT on my shirt, which caused another smirk as he wiped it on my nose. I couldn't help it, I broke. I started laughing. Sherlock looked at me and blinked a few times, then he too burst into a belly laugh. My heart soared at the sound. It truly was the best sound to ever reach my ears. It was...angelic? Yes, it was angelic sounding.

I wiped a few tears from my eyes as Sherlock grabbed the counter edge, leaning close to me. "Jessica, I must say, baking cookies proved to be quite the distraction." He said, smiling. I was about to answer smugly when I heard the sound of a grocery bag being dropped onto the floor. I slowly turned around to see Mrs. Hudson standing in the doorway with her mouth open. She whimpered a few times before running out of the flat, shouting, "I'm not your housekeeper!" Sherlock and I looked at each other, once more a fit of laughter took us.


End file.
